Der Wahnsinniger (English story)
by Vibbah
Summary: In the Swedish invasion of Eastern Europe, one German will rise above them and take back the land of the Germans and free all of his brethren. Or will he?
1. Beginnings

**Author's Notes**

This is very loosely based on both reality and M&B: WFAS. If anything is not correct historically, I have either changed it, or have made a mistake.

Disclaimer: Any copyright material is not of my creation and is the property of their respective owners. I own nothing. :(

**April 17, 1655**

The field was messy.

The dead littered the green, rolling fields and carrion birds feasted upon the dead flesh.

A man astride a horse trotted through the carnage. His face presented no emotion to those who saw it, but underneath his stoic mask he was immensly pleased. Not pleased because he had won _this_ battle, this most important of battles, but because he had simply taken part in it. He relished the clash of steel, the thunder of hooves and the blast of gunpowder. He was a madman.

But he was also, in fact, a King.

* * *

**May 05, 1651**

**Allenstein Castle, Poland**

Here the army of King Carl Gustaf X of Sweden amassed. Thousands of troops prepared for the oncoming storm. The campaign that would carve out a Swedish nation amongst the Poles and Russians. Amongst the Swedes were several different nationalities: Poles, Russians, Scots, French and even Germans. The Poles were mostly slaves forced to fight, or used for manual labour. The Russians fought as Marksmen, Scots as a type of dragoons, but armed with a claymore rather than a conventional saber. The French fought as Lancers and Marksmen. Finally, the Germans fought as Pike infantry, Marksmen and even some Reiters.

The Swedes were greater in number than any of the other nationalities in Gustaf's army. They fought as the second line of Pikes, The Third line of Marksmen and they claimed the glory as Reiters and Dragoons. The structure of Gustaf's army was so that the Swedes would be the last to die. The first lines held all of the foreigners while the Swedes held back, until wounds and weariness had taken their toll. The Swedes thought of the foreigners as lesser than themselves, after all, had the Swedes not landed upon their lands? Taken their lives, their loves?

This had bloated the Swedes pride, and as they marched to battle they had a false sense of security, and they believed that they _could_ not lose.

* * *

**May 07 1651**

**Lodz Castle, Poland**

Here marched the mighty Swedes. Here they laid seige to the home of Count Kazimierz Tyszkiewicz, who had anticipated their arrival and had prepared for it. He had laid traps all around the area, with caltrops and pits disguised beneath undergrowth and grass. This meant that the Swedes could not get close enough to properly encircle the castle, and they set up camp around the castle, preferring to starve the Poles, rather than fight them. The Poles however, planned an ambush.

* * *

**May 08 1651**

**Dawn**

Josef had only joined the Swedish army because of his wife, who was pregnant and he needed money to ensure their survival. He regretted his decision almost immediately, for he was a Pole and Swedes hated Poles. He was treated as dirt and forced to degrade himself for his "masters". He was forced to stay awake for countless hours to perform sentry duty to protect the Swedes who disrespected him. However, when his thoughts turned too bleak he forced himself to think of his wife and soon to be child who he had joined up for. He pondered how long he would have to fight for until he could retire, when a lance broke his skull.

* * *

"Are they all dead?" Jan asked Anatol.

"Yes, they're all dead. You can stop your worrying now, Jan." Anatol replied. Anatol and Jan were part of the 17th Polish King's Hussars, and they performed their duties as scouts and heavy cavalry, switching their equipment between black clothes, a lance and a saber to heavy armour with majestic feathers attached to the back to the plate. However, they always carried their lances with them, whatever duties they had to carried out from latrine duty to scouting.

They had been tasked by their Count, Kazimierz Tyszkiewicz, to kill any and all Swedish patrols or sentrys to, presumably, enable the Count to ambush the Swedes and rout them from the field.

"Good, let's get back to the castle" Jan said. Jan and Anatol rode back like the very demons of hell themselves ran behind them, as their Count had informed them, that time was of the essence to ensure the destruction of the invaders.

* * *

This is my first fic and I hope to continue it, but only if I get some interest in it, so please R&R and help me to improve your reading experience. Thanks for reading, and if you do like it please review it.


	2. The Battle of Camp överraskning

**A/N:** Thanks for the review, indogma and I've taken your advice into account. Hope you enjoy,

Vibbah

* * *

**May 08 1651**

**Swedish camp outside Lodz Castle**

At the crack of dawn, no one in the Swedish camp (alive that is) was not in their tents waiting for the morning and the day's duties. So, no one alerted them to the amassed Hussars formed on the flanks of their camp. The Hussars were 350, but only the best of the 17th had silently trotted out from the castle that dawn. Only those that had proved themselves in fire, and had come out relatively unscathed. At the head of these men was their Count. He wore much the same as them, with their wings flapping around in the wind, their helmets firmly in place upon their heads. However, he also wore a leopard skin across his left shoulder signifying his importance in the heat of battle. This leopard skin portrayed his fierceness in battle, for in the Battle of Nidritsa it was he that had lead the charge at the exposed Russian marksmen. It was he that had cut them all down, with minimal losses to his division of 60 Winged Hussars. He had lost only 3 for the deaths of 94. He had ensured that the only advantage the Swedes had in that battle was lost. Although, the battle had been forfeited to the rising tide of Swedes, he felt that he had not tarnished his honor with the defeat of that day. On this day, he would prove himself to be the most honorable and the Champion of Poland. He signalled to the trumpeter to advance. His nudged his horse into a trot, his men following him to the camp.

However, the advance signal had alerted the Swedes in the camp, and they were stumbling outside of their tents to see what had awoken them. The smarter of the troops had seen the charging Hussars and had gone to retrieve their equipment and wake up those too lazy to get up. The Swedish camp signified what it meant to see your doom coming, and still trying to stop it's charge. The Poles, however, had already reached the camp on one flank, the Count's side, as it was he who ordered the charge. The other Poles were commanded by the Count's son, Branimir Tyszkiewicz, who had only participated in the Battle of Nidritsa with his father. Branimir was not a born soldier, but he had a duty to his castle and his country to ride out and fight the invaders. Branimir's side had charged a few seconds after his fathers, as the signal carried over the camp and to Branimir's ears. Those few seconds would set Branimir's fate in stone.

The Count had already killed 5 Swedes. His men were doing well, but if his son did not meet him at the middle of the camp, the Swedes would surround and crush them. He heard the crack of gunpowder, which startled him as his men carried no guns. Surely, the Swedes couldn't have organised themselves so quickly? His thoughts wandered to his son, as any father's would. He shook himself from his thoughts and continued his charge. He spotted a confused Swede, who had just come out of his tent. He lowered his lance, and he charged at the Swede. The Swede only saw blinding light, then a Fury straight from Hell, before the lance pierced his heart. The Count's blood raced with the jarring stop of his lance breaking. It seemed that the lance had caught on bone, having gone through to be stuck in the Swede's spine. The wood proved weaker than bone, and it cracked with the added momentum from the horse's charge. The Count cursed and drew his saber. He sighted 3 men armed with matchlocks and his first reaction was to charge and try and reach them, before their bullets reached him. He failed. They saw him and turned to shoot.

His horse fell from beneath him, having been shot in the leg. He was thrown forward, in front of the very men who had shot him down. The Count passed out from the pain. They sprung into action, and recognizing the leopard skin on his shoulder, they bound him with rope from their tent. They formed around him, and faced outwards to protect him from re-capture his Hussars.

His son was not doing much better than him.

* * *

"It really is him, isn't it?" asked Áki. They had captured what they thought to be the Count's son. He was wearing a leopard skin, but they did not want to face punishment if they had wasted their commander's time. The Commander was notorious for being strict, to the point of malevolence.

Áki's Commander was German. Which was unusual, as his company was Swedish. The Commander's real name was Albert von Clausewitz. He had proved himself at the Battle of Nidritsa, where he had forced back the Count of this very castle. He saw the Count's charge at the Russian marksmen, and he decided to abandon them to their fates. He, instead of trying to save them, used them as bait to form up his Reiters, Pikes and Marksmen. He had commanded the German companies that took part in the battle. He had then been promoted to a proper, Swedish company.

Their Commander had been the one who had quickly organised their company into formation, to drive back the marauding Hussars. He formed them into what look like a square, and had the first line of Marksmen abandon their guns, in favor of Pikes. This formation had the advantage of protecting them from the Hussars. However, the pikes did not reach as far as the Hussars lances did, and they were jabbed at by passing Hussars. The Commander solved this by only ordering his Marksmen to fire at the Hussar's horses, which were larger targets than the Hussars themselves.

They had driven back the majority of the Hussars, and so their Commander had ordered them to search the camp for any stragglers or survivors. They left the square in groups of 4, 2 soldiers with pikes, and 2 with matchlocks. They had been searching when they came across a Hussar fighting off a Russian with a poleaxe. The Russian hefted the axe above his head and the Hussar jabbed out with his lance. The lance broke through the Russian and killed him almost instantly. The Swedes only action during this engagement was to watch and prepare for it's ending. No point in wasting valuable Swedes for a single Russian, right? When the Russian died, the Marksmen fired and hit the Hussar, one through his leg and into his horse, the other stuck in his breastplate, and threw him off his horse. The Pike men ran to him and aimed their pikes at him. The Marksmen followed, and bound him with rope their Commander gave them.

One of the Marksmen, Áki then noticed the distinctive leopard skin over the Hussars shoulder.

"Hey, this one has the leopard skin, Elof!" Áki said excitedly.

"You're shitting me!" Elof replied, eloquently.

"No, I ain't! Come, look!" Áki said.

"You're right! Damn, we could get rich off this!" Elof said optimistically

"Yeah, right! More like the Commander will." Áki replied.

"Oh, yeah I s'pose. Still I can hope, eh?" Elof grinned. "It might even be the Count's son!"

"Well, we can check!" Áki joked along with Elof. He then proceeded to remove the Hussar's helmet.

"Shit! It is him!" Elof said. He recognized the Count's son's face from the Battle of Nidritsa, where he had been captured, mid battle, then sold back after the battle's completion.

"Really? You're shitting me ain't you?" Áki said despondently, but he still hoped for Elof to be right.

"I ain't, I swear! I seen him at Nidritsa! It's him! It's the Count's son!" Elof was getting carried away with his discovery.

"It really is him, isn't it?" asked Áki. "Well, we had better get him to the Commander, then hadn't we?"

"Yeah, but we need to be careful, if he thinks we're lying, he'll have us flogged!" Elof said.

"Come along, you woman! We could be known as them that captured a Noble!" Áki said wondrously.

They dragged Branimir to their HQ and laid him in front of their Commander. He looked up from his duties as a Commander and examined the body in front of him. He recognized the body immediately, but as a Commander he must be aloof. A constant rock of confidence, showing no emotion, no matter what befell him.

"This is the Count's son, I presume?" The Commander asked.

Áki and Elof were struck by their Commanders uninterested tone of voice. They believed that their finding was of utmost importance.

"Aye, sir. It is. We found 'im battlin' a _Russian_, sir." Áki replied.

"Well, you will be interested to know that 3 Russians captured the Count himself, earlier today." The Commander matter of factually said.

Áki and Elof, stood there, struck by their sudden streak of bad luck.

"Some _Russians_ captured him, sir?" Áki asked.

"They did indeed. Shot his horse right out from under him." The Commander replied. "Leave the Count's son here, and then remove yourself from my presence. Now."

They did as he commanded. Elof seethed at how a _German_ ordered _him_ around. He held his tongue as he did not want to risk his Commander's wrath.

* * *

"I believe that it will work, sir. But only if I can do it myself. I do not trust any other do to so." The Commander said.

"Very well, Albert. Go now, and do this deed. But remember, you shall not kill him." The King of Sweden replied.

"Yes, sir!" The Commander said. He about turned and marched from the tent.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea, sir?" The King's adviser asked.

"It is indeed a good idea, but maybe not an honorable one. But it is not me doing it is it now, Enok?" The King replied.

"Ah. I see." The Adviser said. He now knew why his King would allow such a thing to be done. He wanted victory, but he still had honor. He would simply blame it on someone else if it did not work as planned.

The King exhaled. "I do not envy the Count. Or his son."

"Quite, sir."

"Still, victory must be had." The King said.

"Indeed, sir"

"I hope to God that this works, Enok. For if it does not, I will have to lose more of my men. I will have to take that place by fire and sword. Then, I will have to burn it down. No survivors. No witnesses." The King said darkly.

"It is your duty, to save those who fight for your Crown, sir."

"Indeed, but I still dislike this." The King said.

* * *

Please review, I likez it!


	3. The Eve of Death or Mercy

See if you can spot any references! I try to hide them, but they are very recognizable.

I forgot to mention, but in this universe the kingdom of Prussia ( basically all of Northern Germany) has been taken by the Swedes.

* * *

"My lord, how do you fight those who do not fear death?".

"You show them something much worse than death, Áki. You show them the furthest a human can possibly fall. You show them fear." Said the Commander.

Áki tried to suppress his own fear, at what his Commander was going to do. The Commander had not told him, and his imagination ran wild. The truth was not far from the worst he had thought.

"Bring me the Count and his son." The Commander demanded, his tone steeling, becoming harder, unkind. Áki thought that this was because the Commander could not bear to do what he must, but in reality, he did it to contain his excitement. It wouldn't do to be found out, by a peasant soldier, no less.

* * *

Áki returned with the Count and his son some five minutes later. They were still dirty from the night's battle, and blood stains spattered their expensive leopard skin covers. They were weak, but, as nobles, trained to always keep their composure and pride. The Count simply stared into the eyes of the Commander, while his son kept quiet at his side.

"You will order your men to surrender, Count." The Commander said.

The Count laughed at what he saw as the most unlikely thing to happen, before God coming before them, and proclaiming that he do so.

"Never! My men will fight to their deaths! They are honorable, and will not give up before this army is so crippled, it cannot fight any more battles!" The Count spat.

The Commander's eyebrow raised into a questioning position. He thought honor was useful, to inspire men, to give them courage. But, to condemn thousands to die? He was insane, he knew this, but that was downright stupid.

"If you do not, you will see your son die." The Commander said.

The Count had expected this, and thought that it was strange that only a Commander had been appointed to request his surrender. He now understood why.

"Your king uses you to win this castle. He will make you a scapegoat if word of this gets out." The Count said, hoping to sway the German to his favor.

The Commander barked out a laugh, unable to contain himself.

"You think I am stupid enough to not know this? You debase me, sir. And he is not my king. He took my homeland!" The Count spoke, angry that the Count thought so little of him.

The Count, however, had a new avenue of approach. He would twist this man, promise to help him in his journey to free his homeland. He intended to kill him as soon as he was released, however, as no man would cross him!

"I will help you reclaim your homelands! I will pledge my army to you!" The Count pleaded.

All through out the Count's son had kept quiet, but at this outburst of disloyalty, he could not keep his peace.

"Father, what are you doing? You told me to bear steel against your liege lord is death!" The son said.

The Commander could not hide his grin at this, as he had a suspicion that the Count did not mean his words. He had hoped however, as his one goal was to free his brothers, and become a King in Prussia. He would defend his brothers and sisters from any who would dare to defy German supremacy.

"Damn you Branimir, you fool! You've doomed us!" The Count said, exploding with anger.

The Commander found this highly amusing, however, the Count's son was ashamed, his father had only been trying to save him, and he had ruined it all.

"You will not order your forces to surrender?" The Commander questioned, the fate of the Count being sealed on the outcome of his answer.

"I will not, no! Never!" The Count replied, indignantly.

"Then all you sought to protect shall suffer, fool" The Commander decreed.

The Count felt fear for the first time in decades at this, as the Commanders tone had betrayed his insanity. The Commander also noticed this, but after what he would do to The Count, he too would be insane.

* * *

Well this is the end for now, sorry if it seems like I'm holding off for the gruesome bit, but I wonder if you actually want me to add it in? I'm not very good at human anatomy, but I can try. If you do want me to add it in, please tell me as I will wait for someone to tell me what they want before I do anything.


End file.
